The More Things Change
by SuperGroverAway
Summary: Just because Stan Pines' niece and nephew have grown up doesn't necessarily mean that they've matured accordingly. Or at all. (Future-Pines)


Now that Stan Pines' great niece and nephew had grown up and were starting their own families, their summer visits to Gravity Falls now turned the Mystery Shack into even more of an annual madhouse. Yet in spite of all chaos that resulted from having to temporarily share his home, Stan did of course genuinely enjoy having them all around. However one would be very hard pressed to get the ever-curmudgeonly conman to openly admit it.

In sharp contrast, what was far less of a secret was how much he enjoyed all the free labor he could milk from them. Family was good and all, but getting all the extra hands to help around the Shack was almost like a second Christmas. The irrepressible cheapskate never even made any effort to hide just how must joy this brought him.

"...Ah, now this is nice." Stan lounged smack in the middle of a gift shop as if the old folding chair was his thrown. An irrepressible grin graced his craggy features while he supervised. "Hey kid, don't forget to check in the back of the shelves! And I mean waaaaay in the back. You remember how the rubes like to stick their trash in there, don't you-"

To involuntary illustrate this point, his great-nephew tore his arm out from deep inside a dusty shelf as if he had just touched red-hot metal.

"What happened?" Mabel whirled around from the shelf she had been dusting. "Did something bite you? There's not bite-y things hiding around here, are there?"

"Dude, you okay?" Wendy called from across the room.

"...I'm...I'm fine. I just felt something squishy, and..." Dipper examined the moldy mush residue dripping from his fingers. He could barely tell that it had formerly been someone's unfinished lunch. A revolted shudder shook his body. "I think I need to go boil my hand now."

"Ha! Yeah, sounds like an old sandwich to me." Stan leaned back with a gruff chuckle. The old man was unusually full of smiles today. "Ha! And you know there's gotta be at least a couple more where that came from."

Mabel hurriedly moved to another part of the shop. Hopefully there were fewer squishy surprises lying hidden in wait over there. Stan meanwhile slouched in his seat with a happy sigh. He felt like he was in his absolute element.

"Now what was I saying earlier? Oh yeah...this is nice, huh? You guys helping me out, me watching you all help me out...ahhh, it's just like old times."

"Oh yeah. Makes me feel allllll warm and fuzzy inside." Wendy couldn't have sounded any less enthusiastic as she hefted a box of knickknacks.

"Now that's the spirit!" He chuckled, happily ignoring her sarcasm.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper furiously scrubbed his violated hand against his jeans. "Do you really need to get this all done now?"

"Well, now that you mention it..." The years had done nothing to blunt his sense of showmanship. Stan rubbed his chin and pretended to seriously mull over his nephew's great-nephew's question. "I mean, you are up here for a break. Maybe this can wait until-"

Slowly he rose from his seat, only to stop midway with a dramatic cry of faked agony. "OW! My back! M-my back! It hurts! Ohhhh and to think, all I did was stand up! OW! It hurts! It hurts so much! Good thing I wasn't doing anything more strenuous! OW! This pain is so real and there's so much of it-"

"All right, all right." Dipper ruefully backed down. He of course could easily tell when the crafty old man was trying to pull a fast one. However, Stan did make an unfortunately good point. Intensive manual labor was hardly a good idea for a fellow his age.

"So where do you want these?" Wendy pointed to a pile of question-mark T-Shirts. "Do these all still go near the door?"

Stan immediately popped on a fresh grin. "Everything goes on the bottom shelves near the back now. Ha! Don't know why I didn't think about that years ago. Man, is that a blast! You should see all the rubes, huffin' and sweatin', all just to bend over to pick up one measly-"

Everyone was startled half out of their skins when Mabel suddenly let out a piercing squeal of dismay. Dipper promptly abandoned his cleaning duties and hustled to her side.

"What's wrong?"

His sister was tightly hunched over a box in the corner. She clapped a hand to her cheek and started to moan. "Oh no...Dipper, it's...it's...it's...it's like the grossest thing that I ever...ooohhhh..."

She clutched her chest and let out a mighty dry heave. Instantly the others went on the highest alert. Stan's bones creaked in protest as he tried to catch a good look the source of the hubbub. "Mabel? What's goin' on? It's not another sandwich, is it?"

"You okay?" Dipper relentlessly fussed. "You need me to get a garbage can, or-"

"Yeah, hurry! I think I'm gonna...Dipper, I'm gonna... BLEEEEEEAAAAAAAAH!"

She stretched her mouth wide and opened fire with one of the cans of silly string she had just found. In no time her brother's face was covered in a heavy net of foamy threads. Mabel took one look at her handiwork and erupted into an epic fit of the giggles. "Hahaha! Gotcha!"

Taken by complete surprise, Dipper at first just stared wordlessly. It wasn't long though until his chestnut-brown eyes darted to the other cans. Even beneath the thick layer of bright purple string, his twin could the mischievous smile that sprouted to life on his face.

So could their great-uncle, and with no small amount of dread either. Judging by the looks of it, the two of them had clearly reverted by at least fifteen years in the span of only a few seconds. Stan foresaw the anarchy that was to come with a gruff groan. "Nuh-uh, you're not-"

"No! Mine!" Mabel started giggling even harder as her brother tried to reach into the box of goodies. "Mine! I found it! All for Mabel!"

Despite her best efforts. Dipper wormed his way around her arms and successfully snatched up some ammunition. He cried loudly in playful dismay, "Oh my God, Mabel! Look what you did! It's all over me! It's just everywhere! There's so much I think I just might-BLORRRRGGGHH!"

By the time Mabel scurried out of range, there was already a solid inch of fluorescent yellow foam-string piled high on top of her chocolate locks. Always one for theatrics, she scooped up a handful, gazed upon it and let her jaw drop in mock-revulsion. "Uuuugghhh! Dipper, what'd you do? It's in my hair now! All your barf is like, everywhere in my hair, and it's just -BLLAAAAAAARRRH!"

She let out a mighty retch before before catching him right in the face again. Her brother spat and put on a look of utter disgust. "Gaaah! Now it's in my mouth! I... I think I swallowed some of your-BLAUUUUAUUAUUGH!"

Dipper gagged hard and sprayed her furiously. Mabel joyously faked a repulsed squeak in reply. "Noooooo! Now your barf got mixed up with my barf! Whose barf is covering me now? So much baaaarrrrrf! Barf everywherrrrre! All the baaaarrrrf! All over-BLEEEUUUUUH!"

"Hey, hey! Hey!" Stan struggled to make his protests heard above the fray. The complaints unfortunately fell on deaf ears. His fully grown niece and nephew bounded about like naughty children, and it wasn't long until he became hopelessly caught in the crossfire. "Knock it off! That's store merchandise!"

"But we can't help it!" Mabel snorted with laughter.

"Grunkle Stan, I don't feel so good-BLAAAAAAAUUURRRRGGGH!" Dipper scored a hit on his great uncle's shoulder, then nailed his sister square in the stomach.

"Oh, no!" She clapped a hand to her cheek and gasped. "My sixth-favorite sweater! Dipper, how could you get it all over-HURRRRAARRRGH!"

"Mommy?" Attracted by the strange commotion, sets of curious brown eyes peeked around the doorway. After getting an eager nod of approval from his sister, Dipper turned and rained silly string down on his niece and nephew. The toddlers squealed with laughter and charged headlong into the messy chaos without a second thought.

"Noooo! My babies!" Mabel yelled in faked dismay. "Dipper, what kind of an uncle are you? You threw up all over my-BLLLEEEEEEAAAGGGGH!"

She let fly over her brother again. Her children meanwhile had no idea what was going on, but as long as they were having a good time they couldn't be bothered to ask.

"Mommy, you weird!" Finn laughed.

"Gotcha!" Her daughter tried to get in on the fun by scooping up a handful and blowing it at her.

"Babies, no! That's Mommy's ba-BURRREEEEGGGHH!" Mabel let fly on her offspring again.

"Oh, sick!" Dipper cried. "They're actually playing with your-HUUUURRRGGGH!"

"Great, I'm gonna get disgusting in stereo now!" Stan groaned in vain. "Hey, knock it off already! Hey! HEY!"

One ill-aimed blast from his great-niece sent the old man's fez flying off. "What are you, twelve?"

"Yeah, seriously!" Wendy chimed along in convincing protest. For an incredibly brief moment Stan very mistakenly thought that he had a genuine ally in the midst of the chaos.

The copper-haired woman stomped a heavy booted foot on the ground as she took center stage, temporarily grabbing everyone's attention. "C'mon guys, what are you d-BRRUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Unfortunately for Stan, he didn't realize that the lanky redhead had scooped up two cans for herself until it was far too late. A double dose of silly string suddenly started raining down thickly on top of his balding head as she let out a theatrical heave. The old man of course was far from pleased.

"Oh, c'mon!" He struggled to lift himself out of his seat and haul his stooped body of the way. "Really, Wendy?"

"Dude, I can't help it either!" Wendy clutched her stomach and cheekily shot back. "Didn't you see them? Mabel just puked right over the-HUUUURRRRGGGGHHH!"

"Wendy, stop!" Dipper pretended to beg as he gave Stan another spraying. "Please, you're going to make me-BLEEEAAAHHHH!"

"I'm trying!" Wendy fired at her sister-in-law, catching Mabel right on the neck.

"Aunt Wenny!" Her tiny nephew chucked an armload, then copied the adults with a throaty yell of his own.

"No! Kiddo you got it all over my-BLUUUGGGGHH!" She let fly again. For the next few moments the mischievous woman could barely keep it together while she and her nephew had an impromptu retching contest. The gift shop now echoed like the inside of a Roman vomitorium.

"Oh, gross!" Mabel gasped. "Wendy, you're getting it all over my-BLLLLEEEEEEGGH!"

"Mabel, stop!" Dipper clutched at his stomach. "I'm going to be sick ag-HUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHH!"

"Bro, why? It's on-HHAAAARRGGGGHHHH!"

Wendy snorted as she was hit square in the forehead. "I can smell what you had for breakfast-BLAAAAAAUUUGGGH!"

"Not in the face again! Not in the fa-AUGH! I can taste EVERYTHING! RRRAAAAAAAAGGGHH!" Dipper raised his can and got his sister in the hair again.

Unsettlingly realistic-sounding retches and hearty laughter kept flooding the room as the miscreants dodged and raced about like a group of schoolchildren. By the time their ammunition finally ran dry, an enormous multicolored web had taken over the gift shop.

As the troublemakers started to catch their breaths, the sourpuss in the center of the mammoth mess all glowered grumpily beneath a pile of pink, purple and yellow foam. Tittering like mad, Mabel plucked his string-splatted hat from the floor and dropped it back on his caked head.

"Boop!" She giggled, setting it in place. "Hey, Grunkle Stan, you're right! This _is _really nice, huh?"

Stan continued to grumpily glare out into empty space. "No comment…."


End file.
